Last year's freak snow storm in late October unexpectedly crushed the garden. I've decided to track the progress of autumn, not knowing what will happen over the next few weeks. As time passes, as many plants decline, the garden becomes a garden of light.*
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| The tall feathery light catchers at top center are Salix koriyanagi 'Rubikins' which I cut to the ground each spring. |
The plants become less important, merely visual armatures for light to work on, transforming the dissolution and effects of entropy into a kind of beauty.
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| Panicum 'Shenandoah' front, Miscanthus gracillimus back. |
I think this is a cultural and historical phenomenon; it wasn't always so. We learn to see this as beauty (though some don't).
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| Miscanthus giganteus, Rudbeckia maxima seed heads. |
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| Rudbeckia maxima scaffolding, self-seeded Silphium laciniatum behind. |
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| Looking down the bank toward the pond, with candles of Sanguisorba canadensis brightening the shade. |
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| Miscanthus having a party. |
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| White asters coming into bloom. The blue haze is Panicum 'Dallas Blues'. |
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| Also Panicum 'Dallas Blues', a nice complement to the dried wine stain of Joe Pye Weed. |
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| Filipendula, a splendid plant for structure, texture and color (except in bloom). |
* Credit where credit is due. Anne Wareham called my attention to this with the remark, "We garden with light."
Enjoyed this post, since most of that I can't see here, escept a few mountain areas to my SE. The plants used here from your region are starting to color, though, but part of that is since they are always stressed, jumps-starting them! This year, even the cottonwoods along the drainages must not have the ground water they need, so they are starting to color...their peak is usually Nov 1.
ReplyDeleteThe season of light makes sense. But so does your remark how "it wasn't always so. We learn to see this as beauty (though some don't)." Much in that, and perhaps it's the constructed landscape that can bring the masses into seeing that as beauty?
David, if I understand you right, you're saying the wild garden in the context of a constructed landscape (something like we often see from Tom Stuart-Smith) can help people appreciate the beauty of naturalistic plantings. I certainly agree with that. If I had the money to pay for major built features (a large rectangular pool with large areas of paving (negative space), a canal, etc.), I'd do it. Unfortunately, it doesn't fit my budget. Where I garden, we'd have to blast to get large holes in the ground, so I figure that imaginary garden would cost several hundred thousand.
DeleteI also think designers like Piet Oudolf have helped popularize the naturalistic garden, bringing about a change in how people appreciate plantings. I think the same is true of desert, steppe, and other dry climate gardens. Do you know William Martin's Wigandia? A great garden on the side of a volcano in Australia.
A garden is a garden is a garden.
Deleteglass half full or half empty. It's partly a matter of learning to look, at what is there, learning to see textures, and shapes and subtle colours, to see beauty and thought and interest (installed by the gardener, taken by the viewer). Yours is unique and distinctive amongst all the garden (blogs) I visit.
ReplyDeleteDiana,
DeleteSort of like learning to see the elephant's eye, eh? Seriously, I take your point and am, of course, in full agreement. Part of it is the gardener's intention, but part of it depends on the viewer's sensibility. Thanks for what I take as a compliment.
Thanks for the kind words, James, and the wonderful pictures. I was looking at the effect of light yesterday and thinking that what makes it so special here at this time of year is that the sun is getting lower, so we get trees trunks wonderfully illuminated and places through the trees unexpectedly spotlighted. And flowering grasses backlit..
ReplyDeleteToday though someone has turned it off! (grey sky)
Re making a pool (above) - ours is 6 inches deep, for reflection. Meant no major engineering work and not much spoil to get rid of. Made an impossibly expensive dream suddenly possible for us, realising it could be shallow. O - and gravelled not paved!
Anne, yes, and being farther north, you must get much more dramatic changes in the angle of the sunlight. It must be quite beautiful (on sunny days). Your pool (the shallow depth) gives me ideas, for a way to introduce an open expanse of water into my country garden. I can't really afford it, but I can afford to think about it.
DeleteO, it's sooo good, water! More light - this time it brings the sky in.
DeleteBy the way - did you know I'd also started a garden blog? See http://veddw.com/category/blog/ - though latest one won't be specially relevant for you, I shouldn't think.
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I am woefully behind in my blog reading, and having just read your last three posts, it is interesting to see how the season is changing from one to another in your garden.
ReplyDeleteChanging fast. It seems the Poison ivy is turning red much earlier than usual, but I don't really remember. I'm even letting a Poke weed grow this year because I really think it's a beautiful plant, though I know, I know, I'll regret it next year when all the seedlings with long tap roots emerge.
DeleteSkip the light fandango... your garden and photographs are pure delight..I look at no other garden blog these days!
ReplyDeleteWhat a compliment coming from you, William Martin. I hope you're feeling reward for your work this year.
DeleteThe miscanthus have it! Actually, I don't think that's true with the panicum stealing the show. Do you know p. Squaw?
ReplyDeletePast the equinox now, the sun's getting yellower each day.
Rob, I've seen P. Squaw in many of the Kingsbury/Ouldolf books over the years, but I've never seen it for sale. I guess this is a hazard of gardening in bland New Jersey. Actually, I love the reddish Panicums (I'm less fond of the blue ones such as Heavy Metal and Dallas Blues), but I find they don't compete with the native vegetation (one might say "weeds") nearly as effectively as Miscanthus. No reason to stop using them, though, and I want to add more. Another Panicum, not red but a great gold late in the season, is Cloud Nine.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful photographs, I like such views. I am greeting
ReplyDeleteThank you for visiting and commenting.
DeleteYour garden is looking amazing this time of year. The contrasts between plants this time of year seem to be at their richest, and that low-slanted golden light ups the drama even more.
ReplyDeleteInteresting, your comment that the poison ivy is turning color early. Its western cousin, poison oak, is one of the few plants that turns a New England red for us in the fall. Though not high on everyone's plant list I've developed a special appreciation for it. And, yes, the light eventually gets pretty amazing down farther south, late in the year.
Glad to hear you enjoy the color delights of poison oak. I'm very ambivalent about poison ivy because it seeds readily and I have to use gloves to removed all the chance seedlings, which I can't do because there are so many, but I do like the huge vines (some almost four inches in diameter) that climb tall trees and make red canopies up high.
DeleteThe 'Dallas Blues' in your next to last photo are certainly blending well with the Joe Pye Weed. I'm pinning it for future inspiration. Your photography is great. Even when you can see and appreciate the light, it can be hard to capture it with the camera.
ReplyDeleteI'm smiling over your comment about the Filipendula.
I think the 'Dallas Blues' are beautiful in flower, but the the grass does tend to flop, at least in my light. Yes, that Filipendula, that screaming pink. I wish I could bleach it to white. Thanks much.
DeleteI have never used grasses in any serious way here although I have some here and there under the influence of Karen from An Artists Garden who pestered me until I tried. I have now decided that I need real quantity for them to work in my space but don't feel I know them well enough to be able to make good choices yet. It was fascinating to read this and has moved me on a little, thank you!
ReplyDeleteI wouldn't know how to use grasses other than in large masses, so I look forward to seeing what you do with them. I do know grasses that are successful over here are, in many cases, not appropriate for your climate, so I wouldn't venture to make recommendations.
ReplyDeleteGrass/light interaction appreciation--unintended consequence of the digital camera?
ReplyDeleteLovely!
I think it's the optics of the lens that causes that flare. Sort of like god appearing out of the sky. You take it where you can get it, I suppose.
ReplyDelete